


Take My Mind, Take My Pain

by LessonsFromMoths



Series: Sterek All The Time (lots of one shots) [18]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alive Laura Hale, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Based on a Tumblr Post, Christmas, EMT Stiles Stilinski, Hurt Derek, Hurt Stiles, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, badly placed soulmate marks, bc i love stiles too much, car crash, i just want everyone to be happy, little angst, meet cute, not all pairings get a lot of time/love, not much, self hatred, stiles is full of self loathing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-19 10:28:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13121841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LessonsFromMoths/pseuds/LessonsFromMoths
Summary: Soulmate AU where you have a black stain where your soulmate is supposed to touch you for the first time and it turns to millions of colors once they do.Stiles was born with a very visible black palm on his cheek.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Idea taken from a tumblr prompt posted by fandangoing.  
> Title taken from Heal by Tom Odell.  
> This may or may not be finished, I haven't yet decided.  
> I just need to post this now or I never will because it's midnight and I'm feeling good.  
> Un-beta'd! let me know if anything is extremely wrong!  
> Also, please do not lecture me on EMTs/paramedics. I have done my research. I know what I'm talking about.

The first Christmas he could remember was also Stiles’s favorite. It was the last Christmas before his mother had been diagnosed, when she was still completely lucid and nothing heavy plagued their tiny family of three. There was just happiness and presents and family and lights, oh so many lights. His mother had always loved Christmas lights. 

He remembered with a certain clarity sitting at the top of the stairs as his parents wrapped gifts and talked about how much he would like each one, whispering things he couldn’t hear but every now and then laughing or speaking just loud enough to make out some words. He had just sat there, eyes closed, a huge smile on his face as he imagined what the next day might bring. His mother’s laugh, his father’s smile, chocolate chip cookies, lots of magic. 

That was his last truly happy Christmas. A year after that his mother was in the hospital and didn’t remember his name anymore, and the year following was their first without her entirely. And that was the last Christmas before his soulmark appeared.

A person’s soulmark appeared anywhere between birth and puberty: some were born with it, some didn’t develop one until they were thirteen. But eventually it always showed. Everyone’s did. Soulmarks were completely black: they looked like ink that could never fade. They were the exact place your soulmate was supposed to touch you for the first time. And once they touched you, the black turned into a rainbow of colors. Many people liked to get tattoos around where their soulmarks were. Some people got them before getting touched, so that when they finally were, there was one beautiful, multi-million-colored tattoo among the other black ones. Others liked to wait until after the magical event, in which they would illustrate the events or place that led to their meeting.

Many people had their soulmarks on their right palms: a hand shaped around their own, black as the night, the shape of a thumb curling around their hand. Some had it on their arms, some on their backs, some necks. Stiles even heard stories of people having soulmarks on their dicks and bikini spaces, something he didn’t even want to know about. His mother’s had been on the back of her left hand, just four fingerprints. His father’s were on the tips of his right index, middle, ring, and pinky fingers. They had met in a library, where they had been sitting at the same table. His father had reached for a paper at the same time as his mother: she had gotten there first, and his fingers had touched the top of her hand. Their hands had burst into millions of colors.

His father always detailed the story with the saddest smile.

Stiles’s best friend, Scott’s, mark was on his fingertips, his right thumb, index, and middle finger. When they were sophomores, he handed a pen to the new girl in their class, Allison, and their fingertips had erupted into color. It was the dream story, most of them were. His enemy-turned-friend Jackson had his soulmark on his hand as well, his knuckles brushed black. Jackson had always lived with the fear that he would punch his soulmate and made sure he never raised a fist no anyone. When he was a junior, his knuckles brushed onto the hand of Lydia Martin, Stiles’s crush at the time, and they had smiled brilliantly at each other.

He still had a few friends who needed to find their soulmates, and their soulmarks were fairly general: Kira’s was on her right hand, Isaac always wore shorts because his was on his calf, Erica’s was on her shoulder, and Danny had one on his forearm. Stiles’s, however, was on his face. That itself wasn’t very uncommon; many people accidentally brushed someone’s face or maybe hit their heads against each other or some other random happening. Those things happened because of funny circumstances and slightly clumsy people. 

Stiles’s was a huge handprint covering the left side of his face. 

It was extremely distinct, you could see the outline of each finger as the mark spread across his cheek, spread wide. It was a slap, plain and simple. Stiles had spent countless hours wondering what he would do to make his soulmate slap him the first time they ever touched. He wondered if he was really just that horrible of a person. If everything about him was just completely terrible and annoying, and he couldn’t help but be filled with self-loathing. Not even his soulmate, the one person who was supposed to be perfect for him, would like him. 

He had attempted to cover his mark with copious amounts of makeup, using every concealer he could and a myriad of powders and coverups. Nothing short of prosthetics could fully cover it, and once he hit his senior year of highschool he stopped trying.

When he was ten and his mother’s days were becoming limited, she had stopped making sense. And one day, she had woken up and seen Stiles sitting next to her bed, and she had laughed at him. She had told him how much his soulmate must have hated him, her voice had been vicious in a way it had never been before, and Stiles had truly felt unloved, despised. If his own mother couldn’t believe that he would find love, how could he ever?

Stiles knew that his mother had been extremely ill and not herself, but the way he felt that day still stuck to him, was buried there in his heart. He decided to accept the fact that his soulmate probably wouldn’t love him like he had always dreamed, but maybe they would be able to make something work out. Maybe. Well, he hoped.

 

After graduating high school, Stiles realized that he wanted to take a few years off from schooling before going, or maybe not even go at all. He decided to train to become a paramedic, something he had always had an interest in. Helping people kind of ran in the family. Once he finished his schooling to become an EMT, he was assigned to an ambulance with a trained paramedic named Boyd. As an EMT, Stiles was supposed to learn things from Boyd. He couldn’t do as much as Boyd could, couldn’t administer all of the medication and didn’t have enough experience, but he was extremely glad to be paired with someone as capable as Boyd. They were a pretty good team, and worked the 7pm to 7am shift, one that kept them on their feet. The midnight calls were always the most interesting.

It had been a fairly normal night by the time 3am on December 23rd rolled around. At 8, they had been called to help out at the nearby nursing home, and then at 9 they had been called for a stroke, then for a child that fell from a tree (whoever let their kid climb trees at 9pm deserved a good reprimand, which Boyd had been happy to give). They had been called a few more times for some homeless people and a few minor things that didn’t require hospital rides. And then they got a call for a car crash, not two minutes from where they were already. Stiles flipped the lights and siren and sped to the almost abandoned four way, heart beating fast. These were the calls they all waited for. 

He slammed the breaks and Boyd opened the back, running towards a car that seemed pretty crushed. Stiles could hear more sirens in the distance, police ones. Her surveyed the scene, startling when someone came running to him. “Please, my brother! A car, it...oh my god, please!” A young woman with dark hair was breathing raggedly, pulling Stiles towards a still figure that laid sprawled on the ground. He looked completely awkward, but nothing looked extremely broken.

“What happened?” Stiles asked, kneeling next to the still man and pulling his gloves on.

“We, we were walking home, and we, we were crossing the road when a car just crashed into another, and one of them was coming towards us and my brother was hit, oh my god I don’t think he’s breathing,” she gasped, sobbing.

Stiles was feeling for a pulse, and feeling none he burst into action. The guy’s sister was right: he wasn’t breathing. Stiles cut the shirt open, tilted the man's head back, and placed his hands on the man’s chest, pumping his chest in rhythmic compressions, breathing hard, and adding breaths with a breathing bag between his compressions. “Come on, come on,” Stiles chanted, feeling the man’s body jolt beneath his every time he pressed. The already cracked ribs felt like plastic beneath his hands, but Stiles didn’t let up. “Come on!” He yelled, pumping. He could vaguely hear police cruisers arrive, and the strange man’s sister as she sobbed. _She shouldn’t be here,_ Stiles remembered thinking, but he couldn't lose focus. This man _would_ survive. 

Suddenly the man gasped, his breathing labored. Stiles jumped, stopping compressions and bringing out a small flashlight to shine in the man’s eyes. “Sir? Sir, can you hear me?” 

The man’s eyes fluttered open as he continued to gasp for air, and he managed to nod. Stiles sat there for a moment, looking down on the bruised man as he caught his own breath. The man’s hand slowly came up, reaching out, until his hand rested on Stiles’s cheek, holding him ever-so-gently. The bright flash of color momentarily blinded him.

“You,” Stiles whispered, his own hand coming up to touch the back of the man’s.

“You,” the man breathed out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue is up! :)

Stiles had no problem asking Boyd to let him ride in the back of the ambulance with his soulmate. His sister had decided to go home with a policeman so she could get her family, so they’d be meeting them at the hospital. According to his sister Cora, the man’s name was Derek. Derek Hale. And boy, was he dreamy as hell. He was also insanely out of it since Boyd had administered him some general anesthetics. Stiles gently pressed the facemask to Derek’s face as his eyes rolled wildly around, grasping for some sense of reality. Stiles recognized the feeling, lots of people got it when a near-death experience had just occurred. 

They finally got to the hospital, and Derek was taken back as Boyd explained the extent of his injuries to the staff waiting for them. “Sir, you can’t come back with us,” a doctor said as Stiles tried to follow them into an examination room. 

“But I--”

“Sir, you can wait out here, but no one is permitted until we’ve examined and treated the patient.”

Stiles deflated, nodding his head. The doctor disappeared. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Boyd standing there. “I called in Janet, we’ve got you covered for the rest of the shift. Need me to call anyone?” 

Stiles smiled gratefully at his partner. ”No, I’ll make the calls while I wait. Plus, it’s--” he checked his watch-- “4am. Not sure many people would appreciate a call right now.” 

Boyd clapped him on the back and left, eyes crinkled with a smile. Stiles couldn’t sit still, so he paced and dialed the number for Scott. It rang three times before he answered. “Stiles? Is everything okay?” 

Stiles couldn’t keep a huge smile from stretching over his face. “I, uh, yeah. Well, I’m at the hospital right now, but...Scott, I found my soulmate. Or, well, he was hit by a car and I responded to his call but...we found each other.” 

“Dude, really!?” Most of the sleep left Scott’s voice. “That’s rad news. Do you need me there?”

“I don’t think so. I should be okay.”

“Well is your dad there? My mom doesn’t go in to work until five, but she’ll be there soon. Man, I’m so happy for you. Congrats.”

“I’ll talk to you later, Scott.” He hung up, able to breathe more normally. But he should almost definitely call his dad.

“Hello?” His dad answered, sounding like he had been up for a while. Stiles vaguely remembered that his dad had been working the night shift more than usual recently. 

“Hey, where are you?”

“Hospital. I’m filling out this accident report right now. Didn’t you respond to it?” 

“Dad, the pedestrian that was hit is my soulmate.”

“What? Son, where are you?”

“I’m here at the hospital, waiting for him to finish getting checked out by the doctors. He has a few cracked, maybe broken ribs, but otherwise he should be fine.”

“Stiles, that’s incredible. Let me finish filling out this report and I’ll meet you soon.” 

Stiles let him know where he was, then hung up, feeling even lighter. The best thing in his life just happened to him, and the two most important people in his life knew about it and were willing to come to his side. It was only ten minutes later when his dad made it to him. They embraced, and when they pulled back his father gently touched the white tips of his fingers to the multi-colored handprint on his son’s cheek. 

“It wasn’t a slap, Dad.” And as Stiles said it, he finally realized the weight those words held. “He didn’t hurt me at all. He just reached up, so gently, and held my face.” He almost felt like crying. “It wasn’t a slap,” he repeated, kind of in awe. 

All of his life he had expected it. He had waited with each meeting, waiting for the person that would raise their hand to him and fulfill the fate he knew was in store for him. He had waited for an abusive relationship, an embarrassing rejection, and a white soulmark to match his father’s. Stiles found himself unable to sit still again. All he wanted to do was touch Derek, see Derek, have Derek place his hand back onto his cheek. Never let Derek go.

“You!” He heard a female yell, and he turned to see Cora, looking ragged and relieved all at once. Stiles didn’t even want to know what he looked like. He opened his arms and she fell into them. “Stiles, right? Where’s Derek? The front desk pointed us here.”

“He’s getting examined and patched up as we speak, everything should be fine.”

She pulled back, holding him by the elbows. “Oh, that’s great, that’s just amazing news.” She turned around, as if just remembering. “Oh! My family is here as well, you just have to meet them. They want to meet you, you saved Derek’s life!” 

She dragged him over to where her family was standing, and Stiles took stock. A middle-aged woman and man stood near the front, along with another young girl who looked like Cora, and a few more people who hung back. Stiles could tell that those three were the people he needed to impress.

“Mom, Dad? This is Stiles, the EMT that happens to be Derek’s soulmate.”

Everyone turned to look at him, and he knew the first thing they saw was his soulmark. All his life, that’s all anyone saw when they first met him. He wore hoods in public, pulled his hat low, held newspapers in front of his face at coffee shops. He knew the looks, and he found himself subconsciously turning his left cheek away from them. “You saved my son’s life,” the woman Cora had called Mom said, and when Stiles nodded slowly she folded him into her arms, whispering “Thank you,” over and over. Their dad placed a hand on his shoulder, thanking him as well. He ended up meeting Laura, Derek’s older sister, and his aunt and uncle who had tagged along. 

“You’re the one that performed screaming CPR on my nephew?” The man named Peter asked, shaking his hand.

Stiles laughed. “Yeah, but I broke a few of his ribs to punish him for scaring all of you so much.”

Peter returned the laugh. “He deserved it.”

They talked companionably, with the Sheriff and Derek’s mom--Talia--trading stories about raising their kids, their jobs, and Christmas plans. Apparently, Stiles and his father were going to be joining the Hales in a few days. 

“Family of Derek Hale?” Everyone whipped around to see a doctor standing there, and they all stood at attention. “You can all see him now.”

Stiles went up to the doctor. “I’m the EMT that responded to the scene and his soulmate. What can you tell us about his condition?” 

“He’s a bit banged up, as can be expected from a hit like that. A lot of bruising on his torso and chest, with some on his appendages, and he has two cracked ribs and a broken one. He’ll need some help around the house for a little while, and I don’t expect him to return to work for a few weeks, but he should recover nicely. You can’t ask for more from a car hit. He can go home tomorrow.”

“Thanks, doc. Is he under a lot of anesthetic?” 

“We didn’t give him any more than what the paramedic administered, but he does have vicodin in his system at the moment.” 

“Thanks, Doc.” Stiles turned to Derek’s family. “Are we all ready, then? He’ll be nice and lethargic for us.”

“I’m here for a sedated Derek,” Laura said, pushing past them all to get into Derek’s room. They all followed, piling into the room. The Sheriff held Stiles back. 

“I think I’m going to head. Do you have a ride home?” 

Stiles checked his watch. 6am. “Eh, I’ll stay here and catch a ride with Melissa or something. Don’t worry about me, go sleep.”

“Don’t forget that you need sleep too,” his dad warned. “You’ll still have a soulmate tomorrow.”

Stiles peeked into the room, where everyone was greeting Derek. “Yes, I will.”

His dad left, and he entered the room. Derek was smiling lazily at his uncle as they shook hands, his eyes half-lidded and his hand more limp than not. “Oh! Stiles is here!” Cora said, and Derek moved his head around until his eyes locked on Stiles’s. His smile turned absolutely brilliant.

Stiles walked forward, only stopping once he was directly next to Derek at his bedside. “Hey, you.”

Derek looked up at him, his smile melting. He slowly reached his right hand, now pulsing a brilliant array of colors, towards Stiles’s cheek. Stiles briefly saw Derek, just a few hours before, laying on the pavement with pain-filled eyes, but then he blinked and they were in the hospital again. Derek finally made contact, and Stiles’s cheek tingled at the touch. “That must have been awful, living with my handprint on your cheek,” Derek whispered, but they were close enough that Stiles had no problem hearing him. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” Stiles answered softly. “I’m glad it’s yours.”

“Were you surprised?” 

Stiles grinned. “It was definitely a pleasant surprise that you didn’t slap me,” he chuckled, and Derek did the same, his palm still firmly planted on Stiles’s face. Stiles took a moment to look around and realized that everyone had left the room. “Your family left us alone,” Stiles whispered to him. 

“I think it’s because they knew I would want to kiss you,” Derek whispered back.

Stiles smiled at him. “Really? That badly?”

Derek slowly brought his other stiff arm up and cupped the other side of Stiles’s face, then pulled him towards his lips. They pulled back roughly two minutes later, Stiles’s cheek and chin burning slightly from the stubble. Derek cleared his throat, and his hands left Stiles’s face. “That badly.” Stiles felt the absence immediately.

“This is going to be one amazing Christmas,” Derek decided.

Stiles touched his mark, the first time he had done so since meeting Derek. He smiled. “I really think it will.”


	3. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally finished!! I hope you all enjoy the epilogue, it almost ended up longer than the story, but I stopped myself because honestly? I could write happy Sterek for the rest of my life.   
> Once again, not beta'd, please forgive any mistakes.  
> Thank you all for the endless support, you all rock!!

Epilogue

*4 years later*

 

“Janie, you're such a baby! Santa isn't real!” 

“Liar! Santa's real!”

“Is not!”

“Is so!” 

Stiles heard the argument and popped his head into the dining room, where the two kids were arguing. “Janie? Lucas? What's going on in here?”

“Lucas said that Santa isn't real!” Janie yelled, pointing at her cousin. 

“Janie’s being a baby!” Lucas defended. 

“Now Lucas, that's not a very nice thing to say. Will you apologize to your cousin?” 

Lucas hung his head. “Sorry Janie.”

“Thank you. Besides, I know for a fact that Santa is real.” Stiles said, crouching down. 

Janie’s eyes lit up. “Really?: 

Stiles smiled widely. “Really Really.” 

“But it doesn't make sense. Does Santa even have a pilot’s license!?” 

Stiles gasped. “Of course he does! He received one from the US Assistant Secretary of Commerce in the late 1920s! Santa is cleared to fly all over the world!” He looked around, then leaned in close. “Hey, how about you help your grandma in the living room? I think she's arranging the presents.” 

They both perked up and nodded, leaving Stiles in favor of sprinting to the living room. Stiles felt arms wrap around him from behind, and he brought his arms up to touch the hands that rested on his chest. 

“You're so good with them,” Derek murmured in his ear, and Stiles fought the shivers that ran down his spine. 

“I've known them since they were toddlers, Der. Obviously I'm good with them.”

“Well yeah, but you've always been good with them. It's one of your best qualities.” 

Stiles spun around, dancing with Derek to the soft Christmas music that drifted in from the kitchen. “You just like seeing me with babies.” He spun around, then brought himself closer to Derek’s chest. 

“Well, Lydia’s closer than ever to finding us a great local adoption agency, you can't blame me for having baby fever.” 

“Child fever,” Stiles corrected. “We’re going for older, remember?”

Derek shrugged, an easy smile on his face. “They'll be my baby no matter what.” 

Stiles pulled back. “I want to melt at how adorable that was but also I'm going to puke because you're disgusting,” Stiles bopped him on the nose and made his way to the kitchen. “Come on! We’re in charge of the turkey!” Stiles stopped abruptly and looked up “Mistletoe! Kiss me!” Derek cupped Stiles’s face gently and they kissed, and Stiles bounced the rest of the way to the kitchen.

Derek sighed and followed him, watching his ass in his jeans as he did so. “How about you start it, and I'll join you soon?” Stiles have him a look, and he looked down, embarrassed. “I still have to wrap my presents.” 

Stiles sighed, long and loud. “Go. I suppose I don't need you.” 

Derek rolled his eyes. “I'll send in Erica. She can keep you company.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Stiles waved him away. “Leave me, you procrastinator.” 

Moments after Derek left Erica waltzed in, obviously eavesdropping. “Have you seen it yet?” Erica wiggled her fingers in Stiles’s face, and he caught her hand. 

“Holy shit, look at that rock!” Stiles said, and Erica’s scary smile was incredibly wide. “It’s huge!” 

“Isn't it?” She asked, extending her arm so they could both admire it. “Took him long enough. I mean, we met at your wedding two whole years ago!” 

“Eh, Boyd just wanted it to be perfect. He was terrified of doing it wrong.”

Erica sighed dreamily. “It was perfect. Nothing beats a Christmas Eve marriage proposal.” 

Erica and Boyd had met at Stiles and Derek’s wedding, when Boyd made their soulmarks explode by tapping on her shoulder to ask her to dance. They hadn't stopped dancing since. 

“Yeah, yeah, you guys are cute and adorable and have your lives figured out. Whatever. Now help me baste this turkey.”

They worked together for a while, singing to the Christmas songs and wiggling their butts rhythmically as Stiles used the baester as a microphone. 

Derek walked in on them halfway through Rockin Around the Christmas Tree, raising an unimpressed eyebrow at the sight of Stiles’s hands shoved up the turkey as Erica pretended to drum it with spoons.

“Erica? I think they need you out there,” he jerked a thumb towards the dining room. “Some kind of argument.”

“And argument?” She paused in her drumming, then set her spoons down. “See ya later, Stilinski.” 

“What are you doing?” Derek asked, rubbing his face. 

“Groping the turkey,” Stiles answered, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“Is it really groping if it's dead?” Derek still had an eyebrow raised. 

Stiles sighed. “Well then it would be necrophilia. I figured groping was a less creepy way to refer to dinner prep.” 

Um, or maybe you should just call it dinner prep?”

“Stop doing this to me, Derek, I'm just trying to have a good time and you keep beating me down with your logic.” 

“Someone in this relationship has to be reasonable.” He shrugged. 

Stiles laughed loudly. “Sure, you’re definitely mister reasonable.”

“What? I am!” He said defensively.

“Der, remember that time we went into the pet store to kill time? You almost chained yourself to the cashier counter when I told you we couldn’t get that puppy, but we lived in a no-dog apartment,” Stiles deadpanned. “You are most definitely not the reasonable one in this relationship.” Stiles took the turkey and shoved it in the oven, starting the timer. “Now how about you stop pouting and go get the kids? I think the cookies are cool enough to decorate.” He looked up again. “More mistletoe! You have to kiss me!”

Not even ten minutes later, the kitchen was full of children screaming, frosting flying, and sprinkles getting spilled everywhere. Peter’s wife had made a shitload of cookies for everyone, in every christmas shape imaginable. Honestly, there were only 20 people at the house, but over 200 cookies. After about thirty minutes, the kitchen had been demolished and all the cookies had been made, and it was up to Stiles and Isaac to package them. 

Stiles studied the mess with disbelief. “We have way too many cookies. What the hell are we supposed to do with them all?”

Which is how the kids ended up knocking on the neighbor’s doors and bringing them all fresh sugar cookies shaped like reindeer, snowmen, snowflakes, lights, trees, and stockings among others. 

When it was time to unwrap gifts, everyone was buzzing with excitement. Talia and the Sheriff were taking pictures of everyone, and the kids eagerly ripped into their gifts. Once they had said their round of thank-yous and ran off to play with their new toys, the adults exchanged gifts, taking their time opening. 

Cora got Isaac some new scarfs, because that boy had an actual problem. They had recognized that they were soulmates when Cora was on her back, fixing the Sheriff’s sink for him, and Isaac had decided to get a drink at the same time. His calf had brushed her elbow, and when he had turned on the water, both of them got completely soaked. Cora had immediately started screaming at him, but he noticed that his soulmark was shimmering and had kissed her right then and there. 

Isaac got Cora a new toolbox.

Everyone was laughing, exchanging gifts and thank-yous and kisses and hugs, feeling completely wrapped up in the environment of Christmas and the feeling of family. Stiles turned to Derek, handing him a tightly-wrapped gift. “Here, open it.”

“We already got each other our gifts,” Derek said, pretending to be a little miffed.

“It’s for both of us. Please, open it?”

Derek took the gift and slowly unwrapped it on purpose, because he knew how impatient Stiles always was. When he opened the box, though, he felt his eyes begin to swim. “Derek? Derek, honey, are you alright?” Stiles asked, placing a hand on his soulmate’s. 

Derek struggled to find the words. “Is this...is this for real?”

Stiles smiled softly. “Yeah. Lydia and I have been looking extremely closely, and a few days ago we found the perfect place.”

Derek looked down into the box again, and took out the small piece of paper that was residing there, the piece of paper that would change their lives forever. On it were four words. “New Beginnings Adoption Agency,” Derek read softly.

“It’s connected to the Rising Sun Group Home, where we’ll find our future child,” Stiles said.

“This is the best gift I could ever receive.” Derek couldn’t take his eyes off of Stiles.

“We can go sometime this week, meet the kids, talk to the adoption agency. We’re extremely eligible.” Stiles stopped, then grinned. “Also, we’re under some mistletoe. Kiss me?”

Derek surged forward, and they had to physically stop themselves from an unwarranted makeout session right there in front of their entire family. “Where the hell is all of this mistletoe from anyway? Mom?” He looked towards Talia.

“Don’t look at me,” she said, hands in the air. “I think you need to ask the man sitting beside you.”

Derek sent a faux glare at Stiles. “Having it every five steps in our own home doesn’t stop you, does it?” Stiles shrugged, trying to look innocent. “You have absolutely no self control.” 

“You like it,” Stiles stated, taking Derek’s palm and pressing it to his cheek. Their soulmarks tingled. 

“I like you,” was all Derek said back. “You know, this is the best Christmas ever.”

It really was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you SO much for reading! (I might write about their adoption but dont take my word for it bc idk yet??) Please leave some love if you enjoyed bc I am a slut for comments/kudos.


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